


Good for now

by ionia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionia/pseuds/ionia
Summary: A fluffy and first morning after at Clark's apartment
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 157





	Good for now

Clark woke up to a grey light, the windows of his bedroom fogged up against the cold air. It pushed at the world outside, shielding him and his guest from the start of the day for just a little longer. First light of the day would always be Clark’s favourite, be it sunshine or trickles of UV through a blanket of clouds, but seeing Bruce’s almost-black hair sticking out from under the covers made this one extra special. He’d had to go out in the middle of the night to deal with a fire downtown. Afterwards, on the way back, he hadn’t dared to listen for Bruce’s heartbeat until he was back in his apartment and relieved to find him still there.

He wished this part of the day could drag on longer, time slowed to the atomic heartbeat of the universe, of just the two of them. He snuggled up closer to Bruce’s cocoon of thick duvet, careful not to disturb him. He breathed in his scent, laid a hand over his heart. The best thing was now being able to feel the heartbeat to go along with what was quickly becoming his favourite sound in the world to listen to.

Hunger pulled him out of bed eventually, Bruce still fast asleep and hugging the blanket around himself. He left the bed as quietly as he could, floor cold under his bare feet and padded to the bathroom, took a much-needed shower after having only washed his face of the soot of the fire. When he returned to pick out some clothes, Bruce had inched impossibly closer to Clark’s empty side of the bed, heartbeat still calm.

Next was breakfast. He decided on something more decadent than his usual meal (cereal, or a quick sandwich), because Bruce was probably used to that, and it was Saturday. Eggs, toast, bacon, sausages, muffins from the bakery downstairs as soon as they opened, he squeezed some orange juice, made a large pot of coffee.

By the time he was done, Bruce’s heartbeat had quickened to a pace far past resting, breaths rhythmic, puffing, and Clark walked back through the small corridor towards his bedroom.

He smiled down at Bruce. “Good morning. Do you have to train right now?”

“I’d hardly call this training,” Bruce breathed out as he came back up. “And I have to do _something_ to maintain this body.” He did a couple more sit-ups, puffing breaths, and Clark didn’t think he’d ever see this on the floor of his bedroom, but there it was.

A roll and Bruce was up on his feet, stretched his hips, neck, shoulders. Clark would never get used to the snapping sound of human joints clicking, muscle fibre stretching, but one quick look revealed that Bruce was fine. Yet, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you sore? Did I… um. Do something wrong?”

“It’s your mattress. I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh.” Cheap thing from Ikea, and Clark had never been bothered by it. He could sleep on rocks, distant planets, creaky old spring bed under a sloped roof in Kansas. (Much later, he would find out though, that there was such a thing as a _good_ mattress, heavenly even, at Wayne manor.) “You really don’t need to.”

Bruce was like a deer; he’d move if you made any too much a comment. Disturb him and he’d be gone. But Clark knew exactly which buttons were off-limits and which ones weren’t. Or so he thought. Every so often, Bruce would surprise him. He was good at that, and still somehow getting better.

“I do if you want me here more often.”

Clark felt a smile tugging at his lips, tried his best to contain it, leaned against the doorframe to steady himself. He was still holding the spatula he’d used on the eggs. “I made breakfast.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Freshly out of the shower and hair combed back in juxtaposition to Clark’s messy curls, Bruce took his place opposite Clark at the small table.

“This is bountiful.”

“Don’t you eat like this every day?”

“Not all of us have super metabolism, farm boy.” Bruce picked up his fork, eyed the muffin. He went for the eggs first, adding a bit of bacon to every bite.

“I used to try and sneak an extra bowl of cereal every morning before school. Ma always caught me though, even at super speed.”

“She’s sharp.”

“Had to be.” Clark swallowed a bite. “Hmm. I just figured, British butler. British breakfast.”

“Only on Sundays Alfred makes the full English.”

“Black pudding and all?”

Bruce nodded.

“So, I know to come over on a Saturday night then.” Clark looked up from his plate at Bruce, eyelids drooped a little lower, his best resemblance of sexy. But Bruce raised an eyebrow and put his fork down. Oh. “Oh. Or.” Clark swallowed again.

“I thought it best if we kept… this,” Bruce motioned between them. “Here.”

“I see.” Bruce’s heartbeat was calm, but his body static, and Clark had been learning his body language beyond what it was in combat and covert operations. There were other signs. Breathing, blood flow, the smallest contractions of muscles in his arms, legs. He could go as far as to looking at the hormone levels in Bruce’s blood, but then he’d definitely know what Clark was doing. Clark thought for a moment. The right button. “You’re hesitant about this.”

“It’s obvious we have more privacy here. I have anywhere from 1 to 5 kids in the manor at all times.”

“So this is just a sex thing to you? You’re not going to tell them about us?”

“We slept together once, Clark.”

“Hey, it was a date. I cooked for you.”

“Fine, one date. My point stands.”

Clark sighed. Bruce could keep denying it, but a date changed things. Natural progression, was what Clark thought. Before that it had been looks, stolen kisses in dark corridors. Blow jobs on neutral ground and nothing like last night. Until Clark had finally worked up the courage to ask Bruce on a real date, not a quick lunch in a run-down diner with a Bruce hidden under a dark hood or cap. And miraculously, Bruce had agreed. It just had to be at Clark’s place. Privacy reasons. Clark had made dinner, they ended up making out on the couch. They had finally taken their time, had been able to. As if the earth had stood still for them and Bruce along with it.

“It’s okay if you want to test the waters a bit, first.” He could play this game. “But this wasn’t just a hook-up. You’re still here.”

“Was that a mistake?” As if Bruce could ever give him false hope. He knew the man, he didn’t exactly deal in hope and false pretences. With Bruce, everything had a reason.

“Actions speak louder than words, right?” He smiled, grabbed Bruce’s hand.

Bruce looked at their hands on the table, rub of his thumb. “I’m… not good at this.”

“No one is. I know I’m not. Neither are you.”

“You’re off to a great start,” Bruce huffed.

“Listen, we both don’t have the best track record in relationships. Our lives are hectic. We can’t predict when and how long we can see each other. But I care a lot about you, and I would really like to try this with you. All of it. I hope you do too.”

“I push people away. You know that.”

“So, push. I won’t budge. You know that, too.” Clark smiled. “Besides, you have 5 children. So it’s not even true.”

Something lit up in Bruce’s face. “You see right through me, don’t you?”

“Like no one else.”

“Hmm. Alfred might argue with you on that.” Bruce let go of his hand to spread some butter on his toast, and Clark continued eating his eggs.

“Fair enough.”

“Then,” Bruce looked up at him again. “You know I’m serious about this too.” Let it run its course, Bruce seemed to say. If he needed some more time to adjust that was fine. It was crazy how Bruce could make him feel with a couple of words and a single look, even in the comfort of his own home., and all Clark could do was lean across the table for a coffee-flavoured kiss.

The rest of their breakfast was easy, comfortable. Clark hoped there would be a lot more of those.

“So,” Clark put down his fork, took another sip of orange juice. “Next week at your place?”

Bruce shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth. He swallowed his bite. “I’ll be here again on Friday. Meetings at the Metropolis branch. I might make those a weekly thing.”

“Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.” That natural progression would happen, just at a pace they could both handle. “Want some more coffee?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
